


What Should’ve Happened (A Couple Years) After Lost/Unwound Future, In My Opinion

by spannaintheworks



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Gen, I came up with a whole darn writing style for this, I had this idea a while ago, drownout 2020, i hope you guys like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25058530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spannaintheworks/pseuds/spannaintheworks
Summary: As more and more is unearthed about the Azran civilisation, some of the former assistants of the Professor discover that they aren’t just linked through him...
Relationships: Emmy Altava/Original Female Character(s), Flora Reinhold/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this has been posted as part of the Drownout 2020 challenge - if you are reading this I wholeheartedly encourage you to join in via whatever method you can, and tag it #drownout2020 on ao3! The goal is to drownout certain highly inappropriate pieces on here, as we’d rather not have that in this community, thanking you!

Keys jangling. Lock opening. Cell door creaking open.

The agent in a uniform so familiar to him stepped inside, silently keen to inform their boss.

“What do you want?” Bronev scowled at the young agent before him, wondering what - aside from his possible bail - could be so pressing that it has to disturb his sentence.

“I’ve been sent from headquarters, sir-“

“ _Why_?!?” He exploded.

The agent continued, trying to stay calm amidst a raging boss and the potential dismissal he faced. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath in, and began.

“We’ve gathered more information on the Azran - new locations, families and individuals that all seem to tie in to the civilisation’s lore.”

Bronev turned away, and side-eyed the agent, refusing to look at him straight.

“Continue.” He hissed. The agent obliged.

“We’ve actually managed to trace one of the individuals to, well, here - this exact block, would you believe!”

Bronev glanced away from the agent, and began sourly,

“Don’t get your hopes up, kid.” He then turned, looked the agent in the eyes and, in the same sour tone, asked “But who are they?”

——

Yard time. Each day, Clive got 30 minutes to have his daily amount of fresh air - if he behaved well, of course. Today, rather than stretch his legs or try and initiate a mind-numbingly dull conversation with anyone else, he simply sat on the grass.

He saw, however, in the distance, an old - well, older than him - man walk in his direction. The man was scraggy-looking, his hair longer and spikier than Clive’s, however he seemed to walk with purpose, unlike most prisoners of his description. Clive glanced behind him, just in case the man was after someone else, but no one behind him took notice of the man.

The man then came and sat down beside him. Clive wasn’t really in the mood for talking, however he felt he should at least try and be civil.

“Hello.” He started. The man simply stared at him. Clive tried again.

“It’s quite sunny out here today.” The man kept staring. _Third time’s the charm_ , thought Clive.

“Nice beard.” The third time did seem to be the charm, as the man finally spoke, albeit not a word of thanks.

“Clive Dove.” The man stated. The tone in which the man had spoken put Clive at unease, yet he still tried to remain polite.

“Y-yes, that’s me, hello.” The man continued.

“Adopted son of Constance Dove.” Once again, Clive was unsure of how to respond, so he simply agreed with the man.

“Yes, she adopted me when I was about 13, nearly 14.” The man continued.

“Has a personal vendetta against a certain Mr Hawks.” At this point, Clive was tired of this strange, old man.

“Look, are you going to try and talk to me like a human being, or just tell me my life story?” The man smirked.

“Did your mother ever tell you about your adoptive surname?” Clive looked at the man, baffled.

“It’s the name of a species of bird that typically symbolises peace. It -“

“She didn’t, did she?” The man interjected. Clive was near fuming at this point.

“How do you know that? Why does it matter? Who _are_ you?!”

The man stood up, grinned and replied,

“You’ll find out soon enough."

——

The next day, the same agent came to visit Bronev again.

"What now?" Bronev asked, less grouchy and more serious today.

"We've found the location of another individual that could possibly be linked to the Azran." The agent stated.

"Where are they, then?" He replied sharply.

"Conveniently, halfway across London. We've also been tracking a former agent - they've constantly been on the move, yet recently seem stationed in Spain, not sure as to why." The agent paused. "Have you spoken to Mr Dove yet?"

Bronev leaned back in his chair.

"Indeed I have - he seems to not know his family history from a can of paint, but I think there's more to him than what he lets on. He could be a valuable ally, if we can get him on our side." Bronev slouched back forwards in his chair, hands clasped and resting on the table.

"About this other potential link, then."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Targent locates and explores the aforementioned ‘potential links’.

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

7:00am. 2 hours until lectures start. It was one of those mornings when Flora really didn't want to get up - she would happily stay all day in her nice warm bed, in her comfy nightgown cuddling her boyfriend to death. But unfortunately, they both must study.

Both their eyes fluttered open to greet one another, and after exchanging sleepy 'good morning' wishes and a kiss, both righted themselves and went for breakfast.

This morning, Flora was feeling quite hungry, and so she made herself a delectable boiled egg (shell and all) and fish breakfast muffin sandwich. Her boyfriend Mars, not wanting to give himself food poisoning, opted for a simple bowl of cereal instead. Just before Flora began to ingest her unique breakfast, she compared her meal to her boyfriend’s, and poised a question,

"Mars, is what I eat weird?" He tried his best to be polite about his girlfriend's unusual diet.

"Well, I wouldn't say so. Some people think _my_ diet is weird because of the whole no-pig-meat thing. To be completely honest, I don't think there's such a thing as a weird diet, because people eat different things around the world." Flora responded, giggling,

"You mean like in France where they eat snails and frogs?" He smiled and replied,

"My point exactly! Why? Why did you ask?" Flora explained,

"Well, when I lived with the Professor, he and Luke always used to look at me weirdly when I made myself something to eat, somewhere between surprised and disgusted, I felt."

"Some parts of your diet _are_ a bit ...out there, but you still eat everything you need to and you're not making yourself ill, so there's no real cause for concern," Mars continued, chuckling a bit, "Besides, Luke can hardly judge you - I do like him, but that boy makes me sick sometimes with how much he eats. It's a wonder he's still so slim and in perfect health!"

Flora laughed at her boyfriend's comment, and began to feel that she wasn't that weird after all.

There came a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it!” Flora offered, wrapping her dressing gown tighter around her and heading towards their flat's front door. When she got to the door, she looked through the peephole at the top, and could see two burly men and one fierce-looking woman stood outside in dark uniforms. She thought they looked extremely important, so she felt obliged to open the door.

"Hello!" Flora greeted the agents.

"Flora Reinhold?" The female agent asked. Flora confirmed, smiling,

"Yes, that's me, hello!" The female agent continued.

"Pack your bags. You are to come with us immediately or else." Flora’s face dropped. She felt the world simultaneously spinning and breaking around her, and her brain went into overdrive.

"What? What about my lecture? What about my boyfriend? When will I be back? Will I ever see anyone again? What about the Profe-"

"Miss Reinhold!" The agent interrupted, gaining Flora's attention once more. She continued,

"Your university has been notified, and you will be back as soon as we are done with you. As for your boyfriend, if he gives us his personal details he may join you." Flora’s chest started to feel tight. She managed to flash the agent a brief smile and request,

“One second.”

/

Meanwhile, in Valencia, Jacinta was helping her wife find her old camera. They had spent the day before out around town, enjoying the sights spangling in the bright Spanish sunlight. However, when they paused for a quick spot of lunch her wife had left her newer camera on the bench where they sat, and when they went back, it had vanished.

“Where did you last see it, Emmy, mi amor?” She called.

“Errr...” Emmy responded, “Hang on... Ah! What’s this?” She spotted the coffee coloured case of her old camera at the back of her wardrobe, after chucking several items of clothing carelessly out onto their bed. Jacinta smiled slightly, and walked over to where Emmy was.

“You really need to sort out your things, Em. I’ve never seen someone put a camera in the back of their closet before.” She let out a small chuckle. “Let me help you put your clothes back, amor.” Emmy smiled, and briefly embraced her wife, before replying,

“Thanks, Jaci. I’ll be back in a minute, I just need to quickly nip to the toilet.” She let go of her spouse and headed towards the direction of the bathroom.

As Emmy was washing her hands. She noticed people walking up their drive - people in a uniform all too familiar to her. Her relaxed smile disappeared. _No, no, no, not them,_ Emmy thought, _not them, not today, please God!_ She dried her hands quickly and bolted back into the bedroom. Grabbing her suitcase, she ordered,

“Jacinta, pack your stuff, we need to leave now.” Jacinta looked at her, visibly confused, and asked, “What stuff? Why? Why are you so serious suddenly?” Emmy continued,

“I’ll tell you in a minute. Just pack your stuff, and get ready to run.” Jacinta grew more concerned, and in a shaky tone, stated:

“Emmy, you’re scaring me. Why do we have to leave?” Emmy finished up frantically chucking possessions into her suitcase, slammed it shut, and looked up at her wife, announcing,

“They’re here.” Her wife, near terrified, implored,

“Who are ‘they’?” Emmy swallowed, not wanting to accept her surroundings, wanting to redo the morning, redo the week, redo the past few years of her life. She lowered her head, unable to look her wife in the eyes, took a deep breath, and bleakly answered,

“Targent.”


End file.
